Chapter Two
Two
JAMES
“Come, I’ll show you to your quarters,” Magnus says, motioning for me to follow. We turn down a long hall, the walls dark wood and adorned with paintings of forests and pastoral scenes, interspersed with the occasional vintage photograph in a gold frame and wooden heirlooms.
“We have a house for the rest of the servants and help,” Magnus says as we walk, our boots echoing down the dark hall. “But we like to keep our closest members close to us. Downstairs you’ll find your bedroom, Laila’s, Ottar’s, and Ella’s lady-in-waiting, Jane. Jane has been Ella’s closest friend and advisor for a long time, though she’s a handful, I’m warning you,” he adds with a conspiratorial grin.
At this point I’m wondering who isn’t a handful in this house.
“Upstairs has the guest bedrooms, plus mine and Ella’s, the kids’ rooms, and a nursery…not that we’re planning on any more, but you never know. Perhaps one day we’ll add to the chaos.”
“And your personal bodyguard?” I ask.
Magnus laughs. “Einar. He’s around. He has his own little cabin out in the trees. He prefers to be alone when he can, lord knows why since he’s locked in his brain most of the time.”
We stop outside a door, and Magnus opens it, striding on in.
It’s a nice room, on the large side. A king-size four-poster bed in teak, dark blue walls with gold designs along the top. A window that looks out onto the white fields and the rows of frosted pine trees beyond. The isolation already feels suffocating, and there’s a bit of a draft, ice on the edges of the windowpane.
Ottar takes my suitcase and places it on the suitcase holder, struggling with the weight.
“That’s all you brought?” Magnus asks incredulously, pointing at the suitcase.
I shrug. “You get used to living out of a suitcase.”
“I bet, but you worked for Eddie for how many years?”
“Four.” What I’m not about to get into is how I’ve basically lived out of a suitcase my whole life. Growing up in various foster homes will teach you to never put your roots down for long. I’m actually surprised I lasted as long with the duke and duchess as I did.
“Besides, I pretty much wear the same suit every day,” I add.
“Suits?” Magnus says, brows raised. “No, no. You don’t wear suits when you’re here. When we’re out and about, yes. I don’t know why every member of the protection force has to cosplay as James Bond, but fine, I get it. But here? In this house? In your home? No. No suits. You wear what you like.”
“I only have suits,” I tell him. And I like suits, especially for the James Bond aspect of them. When I was young and living in threadbare hand-me-down clothes salvaged from a donation bin, I’d always admired the businessmen on the tube going to their jobs, dressed in their suits, looking so distinguished, like they had a real place in the world, something I had always lacked. Besides, they hide my gun.
He gives me another hearty slap on the back. “Not a problem. Tomorrow, we’ll go into the city and get you something nice to wear. Now come on, the tour continues.”
A shopping expedition for myself on my first full day on the job? I don’t think so.
“I’m really okay with my suits,” I tell Magnus, following him out of the room. I look at Ottar for support, but he just smiles and nods, as if this is a normal thing.
“Nonsense,” Magnus says, then raps his knuckles along the wall and points to the room next to mine. “This is your lady friend’s room,” he says, then glances at me over his shoulder. “I don’t have to tell you to keep it in your pants, do I?” Before I can even respond to that, he continues. “Good. Just wanted to make sure.”
Oh fuck. Why would he even bring that up? Maybe he thinks that sleeping together is a predetermined thing just because she happens to be stunningly attractive. Or he thinks we’ve already slept together and he wants to warn me that we’re not allowed to do it again. Or he knows the truth. We slept together, things blew up in our faces, and now we’re mortal enemies.
“Don’t worry,” Ottar says to me with a wag of his brows. “He’s warning Lady Jane to stay away from me all the time. She finds me irresistible.”
“Speaking of Lady Jane,” Magnus says as we step inside a large country-style kitchen, “here she is. She’s been part of Ella’s life as her personal assistant for such a long time, she’s one of the family.”
A woman I assume is Lady Jane is sitting at a table in the corner, the biggest mug of tea I’ve ever seen in her hands.
She looks up at me in surprise and smiles, lowering the bowl of tea. “The fresh blood is here!”
Lady Jane is a robust woman with a round face, big smile, and bright eyes, her dark blunt bangs above them acting like a frame. I already like her, even though she’s only said a few words.
She gets out of her seat, the chair moving back noisily on the tile floor, then comes over to me, both hands out to shake mine. “I’m Jane, Ella’s lady-in-waiting. You can call me Lady Jane, or Jane, makes no difference to me since I’m not an actual lady,” she says in a Liverpool accent as she looks me over with a wry twinkle in her eyes. “My, aren’t you a handsome one? And Scottish too. Oh, Ella and I had a ball when she was studying at St. Andrews. I have to say, it’s a relief to have someone from the UK here among all these Europeans. Even if it is Scotland.”
“Nice to meet you,” I tell her, but she’s shaking my hand more than I’m shaking hers. “The name is James.”
“James Hunter,” Magnus supplies. “So now we have to figure out whether you want to be called by your first name or your last name.”
“I’m fine with either one.” When I worked for Eddie and Monica, they called me James. When I worked for the Belgian royal family, back in the day, they addressed me as Hunter.
“Aren’t you agreeable,” Magnus says, then looks over his shoulder. “Ella! There you are. Where have you been hiding?”
I turn to see Princess Ella standing in the doorway to the kitchen. She’s wearing skinny jeans, a Fair Isle sweater—the super-itchy-looking kind—and big fluffy socks, her blond hair braided to the side. She’s very delicate-looking, like a fairy princess instead of an ordinary one, but I can tell from the lift of her jaw that she’s a force to be reckoned with.
“I was working,” she tells Magnus as she walks toward us, fixing her blue eyes on me.
“So you’re James,” she says, her voice soft, a mixture of a British and German accent. “It’s nice to meet you.”
I already know she has a different approach than Magnus does. I bow. “It’s an honor to be serving you, Your Majesty.”
“Well, thank you,” Ella says.
“I told him to knock it off with the formalities,” Magnus tells her.
“And I’m glad he didn’t listen to you,” she says. Then she smiles at me. “But Magnus is right. We’re pretty relaxed around here, and we like it that way. Please call me Ella.”
“Very well, Ella,” I tell her.
“Where are the boys?” she asks Magnus.
“Out front with Laila,” he says.
She gives me a wary smile. “Have you been properly introduced?”
“To the boys? I’m afraid not.”
Her eyes go to Magnus for a moment, then come back to me. “That’s right. You already know Laila, don’t you?”
I’m starting to think that Laila has said some not-so-positive things about me.
“I do,” I tell her. “We lost touch after she left the Fairfax household. It’s nice to be working with her again.” I say that all so smoothly, finishing it with a charming smile, that I have even nearly fooled myself.
“Great,” Ella says, and then beckons for me to follow her. She glances at me over her shoulder and frowns. “Are you going to be warm in that? You should at least get some gloves in case the boys cajole you into a snowball fight.”
I pull my leather gloves out of my coat pocket to show her.
“I suppose that will do,” she says as we head to the doors, grabbing a puffy coat from the rack. “You’ll get used to the winters here. I grew up in Liechtenstein, and I thought our Alps were cold. Here it can go to a whole other level of—what is Magnus fond of saying again?”
“Colder than a witch’s tit,” Magnus pipes up from behind us, striding quickly to catch up, pulling on his own coat.
“We have that saying in Scotland,” I tell them.
“See, I knew we were related in some way,” he says, laughing.
“But it’s the darkness here that gets you,” she says with a sigh as we carefully walk back down the steps, eyeing the sky. “In another twenty minutes it will be pitch black outside.”
We stop at the base of the stairs, and Ella puts her hands on her hips. “Hey, boys, maybe it’s time to come inside before you can’t see anything. We have a friend here we’d like you to officially meet.”
I swear I hear Laila’s sigh as she bends down to scoop up the youngest boy, holding him in her arms.
“Come on, Bjorn,” Laila says, reaching for the other boy’s hand.
But Bjorn is not having it. He’s rolling up a snowball again, his tongue sticking out of his mouth in a devious manner.
“Hey, Bjornsy!” Magnus booms. “Do what Laila says.”
Bjorn then giggles and yells, “No!” He throws a snowball at Laila’s head before turning and running off across the lawn toward the woods.
Magnus mutters something in Norwegian and starts running across the snow, chasing down his son.
“I don’t know what gets into him,” Ella says, coming over to Laila and taking her other son, Tor, from her arms. “Here, I’ve got him. Why don’t you and James get reacquainted?”
Laila opens her mouth in protest as Ella walks back up the steps with her son, then closes it on second thought.
“So, Laila ,” I say to her, having to be the bigger person here and hating it. “I honestly had no idea that you’d be working here.”
She pastes a stiff smile on her face, her hood moving back just enough for me to make out more of her features in the dim light. Bloody hell, she’s still ridiculously beautiful. She’s got these huge dark hazel eyes that tell you everything she’s thinking (and right now she’s thinking how much she’d like to dunk my head in a snowbank, that’s for sure), and the kind of lips that know how to make a man feel pretty damn good. She reminds me of a young Julia Roberts, only with honey-highlighted hair and more attitude. If you can get her to laugh, though, it’s a momentous occasion.
“I didn’t know you’d be here either,” she says sharply. “When they said they got a new protection officer from England, I never thought it would be you .”
“I got him!” Magnus yells at us, trudging through the snow with Bjorn on his shoulder, literally kicking and screaming. “Laila, take the rest of the night off. We’ll take care of the demon spawn. You guys just relax.”
He gives me a wink and then carries the shrieking demon spawn up the stairs and into the house.
Laila gives me a veiled glance. “I guess I should be thanking you for getting me a night off,” she says. “Then again, you’re about to ruin every one of my days for the foreseeable future, aren’t you?”
Laila starts off for the house, but I instinctively reach out and grab her arm. “I really don’t want us to get off on the wrong foot,” I tell her. “Can we start over again?”
She pulls out of my grip and folds her arms across her chest. “How so?”
“Like we’re meeting for the first time.” I stick out my hand. “Good evening, I’m James Hunter. I’ll be working as the protection officer for the Norwegian royal family. And you are?”
She stares down at my hand.
Then back up at me.
This isn’t going to be easy.